No One Asked For You And Yet Here You Are
by Sineluce Velius-Tristitia
Summary: "Your name. What's your name?" "Oh—" Adam realized that he had missed something but this Harry was kind enough to point it out to him so he tried to smile. "Oh yes, I'm sorry. My name is Adam Raki." "Full name? Huh, well, I'm Harry Potter, it's nice to meet you Adam." Or, a four-way crossover nobody asked for. EWE, SLASH (Spacedogs, Hannigram)
1. Meeting

**Ok, so, side project here~! It's a kind of escape to fluff world whenever I want to so don't expect too much happenings here but as soon as I finish a chapter, I'll probably publish it. Who could resist Adam and Harry? Apparently I can't. And this is my first shot in trying my hand at Spacedogs.**

 **This is a series of one-shots with varying lengths so expect shorter and longer chapters.**

 **Disclaimer: HP, Adam, Necessary Death of Charlie Countryman, and Hannibal do not belong to me.**

* * *

"You can see a lot up here."

Adam blinks but doesn't tear his gaze away from the stars. It was quite hard to recognize the details, and the telescope wasn't the best, but his father was kind enough to gift it to him 2 years ago. It was the inexpensive "toy store" type that Adam wouldn't have preferred but his father had explained that it was all he could afford then. Adam still had plans of modifying some of its parts so it didn't matter.

"Of course, the sky's a lot clearer up in dear old Scotland."

His brows drew together. Adam didn't hear any response, so who were they talking to? More than a bit puzzled, Adam pulled away from the eyepiece and looked around.

A young man—teenager?—sat at the ledge of the rooftop, feet dangling at the edge. Didn't he know it was dangerous? Even if falling off a three-story building wouldn't be enough for death, it could still lead to injuries like fractures, dislocation, and concussion, all of which could cause long-term damage to the body.

Opening his mouth to warn the stranger—because his father always told him that it was good to warn people if he knew they were doing something bad—he was surprised when the young man turned to him.

Nothing could have stopped Adam from talking without someone saying it to him directly but he found his mouth sealed shut as his normally fleeting gaze settled on green, _green_ orbs that glowed in the night.

"Are your eyes green or are they red?" Adam asked because the stranger's eyes are so _bright_. "Actually, there are no green stars at all, but sometimes stars might appear green because of the optical illusion that a red object can make other nearby objects look greenish. So do you have green or red eyes? Or are you wearing contact lenses? You shouldn't, you know, because you could develop corneal ulcers and they don't look particularly pretty."

For a moment, Adam was ready to apologize because he rambled on and on again and people tend to be offended. He doesn't know why because all he was doing was informing them in the best way he could. He fidgeted with his sleeves, waiting for the other person to say something, like what those other people would do.

There must have been something Adam did because the stranger smiled. Adam didn't know _why_ the stranger was smiling. Smiling usually meant that they are feeling amused or happy, or sometimes they would be scornful. There was nothing Adam would call amusing in what he said so maybe the stranger was ridiculing him?

"Why are you smiling?" It was better to know for sure.

To Adam's bewilderment, the stranger with green, _green_ eyes laughed. Adam stayed still, feeling slightly worried of the stranger's sanity. There was nothing to laugh at and yet here he was.

Finally the stranger stopped and was staring at him. Adam shifted, uncomfortable under the gaze. It never quite felt fine for Adam to be observed by other people, it made him want to scratch his skin.

"Are—" Adam started when the stranger continued to stare. "Are you alright?"

There was that smile again. "Yes, thank you for asking."

Adam nodded. That was good. Silence settled over them again and the stranger turned away from him. Adam settled back and went back to watching the stars.

"My name's Harry, by the way."

Adam blinked, not knowing what to say. The stranger—Harry, apparently—wasn't even looking at him but there was no one else there but the two of them so Adam was certain that Harry was talking to him.

He would have been fine going back to star gazing but his father always told him that he needed to give at least a form of acknowledgement that he understood what was said. So Adam nodded.

"What about you?" Harry was looking at him again.

"Me?"

The younger man tilted his head to the side. "Your name. What's your name?"

"Oh—" Adam realized that he had missed _something_ but this Harry was kind enough to point it out to him so he tried to smile. "Oh yes, I'm sorry. My name is Adam Raki."

"Full name? Huh, well, I'm Harry Potter, it's nice to meet you Adam."

* * *

 **Quick question, who do you want Harry to be paired with? It could be gen but I can't make anything besides slash or gen, so no for het in main pairings.**


	2. Selfish

"Do you like watching the stars?"

While Adam felt comfortable in the silence, and in fact preferred it because it was easier to integrate meeting Harry in his routine, he found himself with the odd compulsion to talk.

Adam was curious. He had seen Harry in the rooftop two other times since they had met and that was pretty much all the following times Adam went up to the roof, which was every Monday and Thursday.

"Yes," Harry was sitting at the same spot the last three times Adam met him and Adam had voiced his concerns on the dangerous position twice now but Harry always 'waved him off'. "They remind me of home."

"Oh," Adam says. "Does your home look like the stars?" Because maybe they do. Adam doesn't know _everything_ even if it was easy to retain what he read.

Harry laughed—and Adam found that he liked Harry's laughter—and turned to him, expression twisted into something Adam could only interpret closest to as…sad. It was easy to recognize, his father wore it a lot of times.

"No, not stars." Harry looked up in the sky with his eyes closed. "But you could definitely see the stars clearly. I remember the first time I laid my eyes on it, we were riding a boat on a lake led by a giant of a man. It was beautiful."

Adam didn't move, frozen in place because it almost felt like disturbing this scene was not something he wanted to do. Not for the first time in his life, Adam _wanted_ to be able to understand what is happening because Adam _knew_ Harry needed some sort of help that he can't give, help that Adam can't even identify. It was _frustrating_.

"And I guess," Harry continued, ignorant of Adam's dilemma. "My family's there too."

Frustration wasn't something Adam wanted to feel. It made him feel a lot more uncomfortable than being stared at because it felt like he was drowning in the things he wanted to do, to say, to _express_. It wouldn't come out right. Sometimes it wouldn't come out _at all_.

"Adam?"

Adam started clenching and unclenching his fists, body tensed as Harry moved to inch closer.

"Adam? Are you okay?"

Harry touched him and Adam was almost sure he would feel his skin crawl but then Harry's hold was gentle and loose, gradually tightening into something comfortable until Adam found his nose buried on Harry's neck. The steady motions of the hand running through his hair made him feel grounded and slowly relaxed Adam's tensed muscles.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered and Adam was confused. "Was it something I said? I'm sorry Adam."

"N-no," Adam's voice was muffled but he didn't move away from the pleasant warmth and smell of aged paper. "No, I—"

He was lost. He didn't know what he should say. Harry hadn't disturbed his routine like many others would do, like Harlan usually did and sometimes his father. He wanted to tell Harry it was Adam's fault, that it was Adam who was _wrong_ here.

He wanted Harry to _know_ even if he barely knew the green, _green_ eyed young man. Harry was slowly becoming something he looked forward to in seeing even if they only met three times and talked only about twice that. He _liked_ Harry.

"I have this—" Adam finally pulled away slightly and swallowed, trying to get his words out. "This thing called Asperger's Syndrome a-and I-uh- one thing about it is not knowing what people are thinking and sometimes—sometimes it also makes it _hard_ to express myself because—"

"Because your emotions get so tangled up?"

Adam blinked, considering what Harry said before nodding. Sometimes he doesn't understand what's _in_ him, like seeing the tangled up threads in the sewing kit his father always used.

Now Adam stared up, waiting for Harry to leave or laugh at him or ridicule him like all those other people do, but was surprised when Harry's lips stretched to a smile and Adam was staring into green, _green_ eyes that made Adam think of damp grass in the morning.

"Don't worry yourself about that Adam." A hand was running through his hair again and Adam leaned up to the touch. "Sometimes normal people feel like that, too. I'll just have to be a lot more direct and blunt with you, yeah?"

"I—" Harry's smile and nod shut Adam up. "Yeah, okay…"

"So…" Harry poked Adam between his eyes and Adam frowned when his eyes instinctively followed, making his eyes cross. "Would you like to be friends with me?"

"I would—" Adam doesn't quite know what the warm feeling is but it felt pleasant. "I would love to."

Then Adam realized he probably wasn't going to be a great friend— _freak!_ —and that Harry was soon going to hate him.

 _But Harry was the one who asked you_.

Just this once, Adam recognized what 'selfish' means.


	3. Happy

Adam knew, at some part of his mind, that Harry lives in the same building as where he and his father live in. The rooftop is off-limits to non-residents after all. So it shouldn't have come as a surprise that he would eventually see the younger man in the hallway.

But it was, because Adam should only meet Harry on the rooftop during Mondays and Thursdays at precisely 8:30 pm with Adam's telescope and the stars above them.

"Hullo Adam." Harry greeted him with a smile.

"H-hello Harry."

And then Harry left with just that greeting and Adam relaxed. He thought, for a moment, that Harry was going to stop to talk to him for a while. From what he had noticed, that's what friends do and Harry had said they were friends. Adam was glad it was only a greeting, a polite thing to do.

.

"Good morning Adam."

Adam startles and turns to the familiar voice.

"Oh, and to you as well Mr. Raki."

Adam only hesitates for a bit before managing a stilted "good morning Harry" followed by his father repeating the greeting as well.

And then just like the day before, Harry merely smiles and continued on his way. Adam blinks as he watched Harry go up the stairs, wearing what looked like jogging pants and an oversized sweatshirt. But he was going up the stairs so maybe he just came back?

"Do you know him?" His father asked him.

"Yes." Then as an afterthought, Adam added, "We're friends." Because saying it makes Adam feel warm again.

His father raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything so Adam turned his attention back to locking the door of their apartment.

.

Seeing and greeting Harry before leaving and arriving in the hallway became a recurring occurrence that Adam found himself anticipating. The first few times, Adam was very nervous about whether Harry was going to stop to talk or not, but when a week passed and Harry only took the time to talk to him in the nights they spent on the rooftop, Adam finally calmed down.

It was an altogether different story with his father.

His father didn't really say anything about Harry but then one day, as Harry gave his customary greeting to Adam, his father was at the door.

"Adam," His father started. "Why don't you invite your friend in?"

Apprehension grew in Adam. He chanced a glance at Harry but his friend merely tilted his head to the side, his green, _green_ eyes staring at Adam, a gesture that Adam grew to realize meant it was a question Adam was supposed to answer even if it was not directly addressed to him.

It seems Adam took too long to answer, or maybe Harry just saw something that Adam wasn't aware of, because the younger man's smile became less pronounced.

"It's okay, you don't have to."

As he watched Harry's back, something in Adam felt bad.

"Wait I—" Adam fumbled with his words. "Harry?" To his relief, Harry stopped and turned to look at him. "Would you-would you like to come in?"

The smile Harry wore could only be described as _bright_ and… happy.

Adam found himself copying Harry's smile even if it felt strange on his face because Adam was happy too.

It didn't take long for Harry to be accompanying Adam in the afternoons.


	4. Thank you

Adam liked order.

His bed is always made after waking up, his hair combed neatly, his clothes and uniform arranged in his closet according to what he would wear every day, his books always arranged alphabetically (paper backs grouped together in the higher shelves and the hard bounded ones in the lower)… it was needless to say that every part of their house was organized methodically both for ease of access and Adam's satisfaction.

But Harry had invited Adam to his room and all Adam could think of was how clattered it looked like.

"Used to live in dorms, you see," Harry explained with a blush—embarrassed. "Kind of gotten used to things lying around. Don't worry, it's actually very organized. To me, that is. It's an, ah, 'organized mess' as they would call it."

And it is, as Adam soon found out, because Harry knew where things were, not even back-tracking in search for something. So their short stop-by really _was_ a short stop-by and Adam was faced with Harry presenting him an ornate looking telescope.

"I won't use it anymore so I think it would be better off with you. Even if, you know, you already have one."

Adam inspected it with curiosity. It looked like a refracting type but it wasn't anything like Adam had seen before. Golden and ornate looking wasn't what telescopes were supposed to be, after all, but it looked similar enough to normal ones to not be too different in its structure.

He was about to peer through the eyepiece but Harry stopped him with a wink. "It's better if you try it first up in the rooftop."

So Adam did and what a breath-taking view he was greeted by. Despite its dubious design, the telescope worked _a lot_ better than what his father had given him, perhaps even better than the more expensive types of telescopes out in the market. He could clearly see Merak and Dubhe, Polaris… he could even see the 'tail' of the Big Dipper in spite of the light pollution in the middle of the city.

And then he realized that the image _wasn't upside down how was that possible?_

"Where did you get this?" Adam found himself asking, excited and curious. And when he is excited and curious, Adam rambles, so he found himself telling Harry of the incredible details Harry's telescope picks up on and how it was comparable to Levenhuk and Celestron telescopes, albeit the more inexpensive ones, _but still_. Then he went on to specific details because Harry's telescope _really_ was impressive.

"— _those_ require larger aperture compared to magnification but of course there are—" Adam falters, realizing that he had been talking too much. "I—I'm sorry. I tend to ramble and you must be annoyed by me now, I'm very sorry."

Adam focuses his attention on his lap, scratching at his pants anxiously.

"What? Adam. Adam, look at me."

Adam does, gaze straying away from meeting Harry's eyes, a gesture Adam had found much easier to do with Harry. Harry's green, _green_ eyes were comforting in that Adam isn't bombarded by information he can't even understand, just a tranquil void that now shone brightly with something Adam can't quite name.

"Adam…" Hands were at his cheeks and Adam bit back a whimper.

Harry sighed, "Adam, you shouldn't apologize for speaking. It's just that… I'll be completely honest and tell you that I'm not the smartest person. Most of what you said completely flew over my head. That is to say, I didn't understand most of what you just said, but that doesn't mean I'm annoyed by you." And as if to prove his point, Harry smiled, his green, _green_ eyes sparkling. "Maybe next time I should ask questions?"

"Questions—" Adam mumbles mostly to himself. "Asking questions help aide in understanding topics you don't understand in that it broadens your knowledge of the subject."

"Yep!" Harry nods his head so hard that Adam worried that Harry would end up dizzy. "So… what in Merlin's name is refracting?"

Adam blinks.

And blinks again.

" _Refracting?_ " Adam parrots back in disbelief. He had always found repeating himself quite unnecessary but _really_.

Harry nods, brows furrowed and lower lip jutted out. _Sulking_ , Adam thought. Harry almost looked… adorable, like one of those stray kittens on the streets that people sometimes ignore, sometimes take with them to presumably take home.

"I know I have a telescope," Harry says with a huff. "But I always thought Professor Sinistra taught us a lot more of astrology than actual astronomy. And then Professor Firenze taught us 'how to read the stars and the planets' which was a much easier to understand version of what Trelawney ought to have taught us if she didn't spend an entire class making us drink tea."

And so launched a thorough discussion of the difference between astronomy and astrology that Harry turned into a debate about how astrology is as important as astronomy and shouldn't be looked down upon because "blokes think they're above everyone just because they know science". Adam, of course, found himself defending science stating that astrology had no logical basis.

"Isn't there?" Harry's smile had something that Adam felt slightly uncomfortable of. "It wouldn't be made if there was no logical basis, after all."

Their night ended with a frustrated Adam. It wasn't an unpleasant frustration as Adam had initially thought because he didn't think frustration could be what he is feeling— _elation_ , perhaps?

"You're welcome, by the way."

Adam frowns, not quite knowing what Harry means, hands clutching at the ornate telescope that was given to him.

Harry elaborates, "Well, you haven't quite said 'thank you' yet, but you're welcome."

 _Oh_.

"I—" Adam stutters in embarrassment. "Yes—I—thank you for the telescope."

Harry smiles and Adam returns it as is usual.

* * *

 **Still looking for suggestions *grins***


	5. Graduation

Harry became somewhat of a fixture in the Raki household.

Adam and his father would leave in the morning at the same time as Harry would come back from his morning walk (" _or errands. It depends on what I need._ "). Harry would greet them with a smile that Adam would try to return, and then his father would make a polite inquiry to Harry. This, however, would differ in each day, unlike Adam's automatic but no less genuine response.

Then later on, when Adam would come back to their apartment building, he would find Harry doing something or the other in the teenager's—" _I'm 19, Adam. Not quite a teenager anymore."_ —room in the third floor. Harry would invite him in for tea, Adam would accept, and they will stay in the perpetually "organized mess" of a room Harry has for approximately twenty minutes before they head back to Adam and his father's apartment.

Adam would proceed to do his chores and Harry would sit by the couch with a book procured from Adam's own collection. As soon as Adam is done—at precisely 6:03 pm—he would settle down to study, helping Harry in what he doesn't understand. Which was _a lot_. More often than not, Adam would be an impromptu teacher because _how can Harry not know the Pythagorean Theorem? Or even the basics of algebra?_

"I wasn't able to finish studying." Harry told him, looking solemn(?) when he had asked. "I had other things I needed to do."

Even if the answer had been vague— _what kind of parents would ignore their child's education?_ —Adam didn't comment on it anymore because Harry's expression, although Adam still couldn't quite name it, made him silent.

So of course, Adam was more than happy to help Harry with his studies, and in return Harry helps him understand other people. In fact, Harry had introduced him to "people watching" and Adam made it a habit to spend some time to do it in public. It didn't necessarily mean Adam understood them any more than he did. Sometimes it only made him more confused, but it made "reading" people faster than when Adam studied pictures only.

Time went on and Harry simply fit in Adam's schedule like he had always been there.

.

Graduation was both a dreaded and anticipated affair.

Graduating means Adam could get a job of his own to gain his own money, allowing him to repay his father. It would mean Adam wouldn't just be another "heavy burden" (Adam was slightly proud that the application of the metaphor seems to be correct, though its implied meaning was disheartening).

At the same and most prominent time, graduating means change. Adam didn't like changes; Adam downright dreaded changing his routine. Not to mention the expected vacancy that attending school will provide.

"It'll be alright, Adam." Harry sat cross-legged opposite him. "Well, no. Actually, I don't think it'll be."

Adam stiffly sat on the couch, muscles taut and eyes staring blankly ahead.

Only the sound of the clock unsettled the silence and not long after, Harry started tapping his pen on the wooden leg of the table. The added noise did nothing but to cause the tension around Adam become tighter.

"Stop that." Adam finally ground out, politeness forgotten.

"Sorry." Harry sighed. "Adam." Harry shifted and crawled his way near Adam. Near, but not touching, and Adam was grateful for that. Adam blinked and focused down on Harry. For a long while, Adam stared into green, _green_ eyes, unable to look away.

"Alright," Harry broke eye contact when he stood up. "Wait here for a moment, please. And _don't_ do anything."

And Adam did. It was more because Adam was feeling _too much_ and was now numb than the less-than-polite command. Although on a normal day, Adam wouldn't have protested too much. Concentrating on the rhythmic _tick-tick-tick_ of the clock, Adam lost his sense of time.

"Adam?"

Adam twitches, sluggishly blinking up as green, _green_ eyes that were now covered by wire-rimmed, ugly glasses called his attention. Harry— _when did Harry need glasses?_ —was kneeling down in front of him, so close and yet not touching. Adam's eyes darted down to see a mug of tea held out to him in offering.

"Drink this," Harry said with a 'soft' smile. "It'll make you feel better."

Frowning because _how could a cup of tea help make him feel better?_

"Just trust me on this." Harry rolls his eyes and Adam's hand twitches in an aborted movement.

 _Eye-rolling could be a sign of many things, most often of which is that the person who did it was irritated by what—_

Adam found his hands holding a warm mug and had to suddenly force his focus on not letting it fall.

"Just drink it, Adam. No harm will come to you, I promise."

At the— _challenging?_ —gaze, Adam reluctantly did so, making a noise at the back of his throat at the too sweet taste.

"That bad? Yeah, sorry about that."

Then the churning at his stomach stopped and the feeling of nausea lessened (Adam didn't even _know_ he felt _nauseous_ ).

" _Oh_ ," was all Adam could get out, feeling much, _much_ calmer now. "Thank you."

"Don't worry about it." Harry answered with his usual smile. "As for your graduation—well, you _do_ have your father. He'll help you just like he always did. He loves you, you see."

Adam smiles, feeling slight warmth in his belly. "And you."

Harry blinks. "Me?"

"I also have you." Adam states like it was the most obvious thing in the world—which it is. "Dad does what he can and you help him. I—sometimes dad can't _always_ know what to do and you just _somehow_ _do_."

" _Oh_ ," Adam hoped that what he is seeing in Harry's expression is the positive kind of surprise.

.

His graduation passed with little fanfare thanks to whatever was in Harry's 'special tea' ( _Harry winks, "Family secret."_ ). Harry was not able to come due to prior engagements. Adam was slightly upset, but figured that Harry can't _always_ be there for him, like his father.

Adam wasn't really expecting anything so when he and his father came home, Adam was surprised by his father's grin.

"I've got something for you." His father declared as soon as their door was locked. "Stay here, I'll bring it to you."

Adam frowned but stayed where he is, waiting for his father to come back.

When his father trudged back, Adam was distracted by what his father is holding. With wide eyes, Adam automatically reached for it when his father presented it to him. It was with great care that Adam put it down on the table near him, reverently touching the folded material and plastic helmet.

"Is this—"

"A spacesuit, yes." His father interrupted and Adam couldn't even find it in himself to be irritated. "It's only a replica, but a damned good one."

And Adam didn't even spare time to think of his actions, moving closer to his father in an imitation of what Harry usually does when he's excited, and _hugs_ the man. Adam didn't notice his father's rapidly blinking eyes.

Father and son failed to notice the slight disturbance of air in the corner of the room, caught up in the long forgotten and yet familiar moment.

* * *

 **Thank you all for the positive feedback on this. Y'all just have to wait for quite a few chapters until Hannibal and Necessary Death characters arrive (whichever comes first) because I'm doing a little bit of world-building or whatever it is I'm doing (tho this is being done much more for my pleasure than anythin')**

 **I am very much open for suggestions... *pouts***


	6. Lost pt 1

**This chapter would have a part 2 because it's getting too long for it. Anyway, we will see another character! Hah!**

 **Any mistakes made are mine.**

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

It wasn't often that Adam would be in an unfamiliar street.

Adam could count in a single hand the amount of times he veered off the usual path he takes from their apartment to the university. The crowded sidewalks, the noisy chatter of the crossing pedestrians, the angry honking a car would make when one of the more rowdy teenagers crossed the road when they really shouldn't…

Adam didn't pass through those.

Because Adam didn't walk around at noon.

A stiff glance at his watch told him he was supposed to have lunch.

 _12:36_

Adam watched the second hand tick.

 _12:37_

He stood, as still as a statue, with eyes fixed on the mechanical _ticking_ of the watch.

 _12:38_

Raised, angry voices caused his concentration to break. Adam's gaze snapped up from the white and silver frame and to an off-way alley where the voices seem to be coming from.

"— _Î_ _mi p_ _a_ _re r_ _ă_ _u Nigel—!_ "

" _Cine_ _crezi ca sunt?! M_ _ă doare-n cot, nenorocitule._ _Nu plătiți, vei muri._ "

Then there was a scuffle, groaning, and angry shouting that Adam couldn't understand. It wasn't any of his business and his father always told him to avoid things that don't concern him. It sounds like they were having a fight, though, and Adam feels concerned of that.

He glanced down his watch.

 _12:42_

It was too late to eat lunch by now.

Then there was an odd _psshh_ sound that came from the alley, followed by a _click_. Curious, Adam slowly hedged his way over to the mouth of the alley. Just as he was a step away from his intended destination, a large body blocked his way.

"What you doing?"

The voice was deep and heavily accented so much so that Adam had to pause to puzzle over what was said, in the end only understanding _"what_ " and " _doing_ ". Adam concluded that the stranger who smelled strongly of cigarettes and metal was asking what he was doing.

"I was curious." Adam explained plaintively. "You sounded angry and I wanted to see if there was something wrong." After all, anger often results in violence and violence was bad.

There was a beat of silence and Adam thought that maybe he said something wrong. He could feel the man's eyes on him though.

" _Tch_ ," The man reached for his breast pocket in jerky movements. " _Damned Americans_."

Adam frowns. "Swearing is bad."

"Fucking it is."

Adam twitched, hand clenching in distress. "You shouldn't swear."

The man retrieves a cigarette and puts the butt of it in his mouth. Adam blinks at the blood-shot eyes that stared through him.

"Go fucking away kid."

There were traces of white powder on the man's collar and Adam belatedly notices the man's trembling hands and…

Curiously but with trepidation, Adam peers behind the man and into the alley.

"You killed him." It was merely a statement of fact as Adam stared at the spatters of blood on the dirty cement.

There was a pause and then the man growled. Large hands grabbed Adam by his shoulders in a bruising grip. Adam grunted as he was forcefully pushed against a wall, one large hand wrapped around his throat.

Fear seized him as he was forced to look at blood-shot eyes, burning holes into him. Adam barely felt the tightening of the grip around his throat but felt panic as he realized he _can't breathe_.

"Give me one _fucking_ reason to stop this."

The unlit cigarette fell from the man's mouth. Adam didn't understand anything said to him, eyes wide and glassy as fear and panic consumed every inch of his thoughts. The man kept on shouting, the grip around his throat inconsistent enough that Adam could suck in a few gasps but the cloud of fear and panic didn't leave.

Not able to take it anymore, Adam let out a cry.

The hand around his throat let go as if burnt and Adam crumpled to the ground. Immediately, Adam curled in on himself, breathing shallow and tears falling down his face.

" _Shit_ , kid. _Futu_ _ī_."

Adam can't hear anything but the rush of his blood as he panted, gulping in as much air as he can _but it still wasn't enough_ —

" _Ce pula mea!_ Oi _tânăr_ _!_ "

Adam felt large hands hold his elbow and he flinched away, gasping through his mouth so that the heavy smell of cigarettes and _blood_ won't reach his nose.

"G-go—" Adam whimpers out, feeling slightly bad for the man. "Go away, _pl—please._ "

For the next moments, nothing disturbed Adam and he was grateful that the man left. He let the _tic-tic-tic_ of his watch settle him, tapping his fingers in time with it. Soon enough, Adam was able to hear beyond the high-pitched ring, can hear his own breaths. He takes a deep breath and looks up at the strong smell of nicotine.

"Okay, kid?"

The man was still there, cigarette burning near his thin lips. Adam wonders why the stranger was still there but realizes that a question was asked so he must answer.

"Y-yes." His voice is still shaky.

The man stretched his hand, palm up. Adam blinks at it.

"Phone." The man said in explanation.

It takes a few seconds for Adam to realize this but reaches down to his pocket to retrieve the bulky gadget and gives it to the man without asking questions. He nearly lets it drop with how much shaking his hand does.

Shaking off the haze of fear and panic, though some still lingered, Adam watched curiously as the man tapped away, a frown etched on his chiseled and distinctly foreign features. Then, seemingly done, the man returned the phone to Adam.

"' _Harry_ ' is your friend?"

Adam stares down at his phone before he nodded up at the man. There were only three contacts in his phone namely his Dad, Harlan, and Harry. He checks what the man did and saw that he had texted Harry to come ' _take him_ '.

"Why?"

Because the body was still in the alley and Harry coming here would mean they would have to report this to the police. Adam knew that even if Harry wouldn't come and take him, he himself would have to report this to the police. Knowing was different from wanting, however. The thought of going in to file a report and talking to those police offers was enough to make Adam recoil.

The man merely grunted in reply and threw his cigarette on the floor before walking away.

Adam didn't try to follow, knowing by experience that his legs won't be able to hold him up properly with the amount of trembling he is doing.

He watched as the man disappeared around a corner and waited.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

 **Translations:**

 **Î** **mi p** **a** **re r** **ă** **u Nigel – I'm sorry Nigel**

 **Cine crezi ca sunt?! M** **ă** **doare-n cot, nenorocitule.** **Nu plătiți, vei muri. – Who do you think I am?! I don't give a fuck, fucker. You don't pay, you die.**

 **Futu** **ī** **. – Fuck.**

 **Ce pula mea!** **Oi** **tânăr** **! – What the fuck! Oi kid!**

 **So uh… did I mess it up too badly? I don't even speak Romanian so I'm very sorry.**

 **Anyway, thank you all for your support for this side-fic-but-somehow-I-work-more-on-it-than-Metaxis.**


	7. Lost pt 2

**In tribute to senpais noticing me *Squeals***

 **Anyway, here's part 2 of the previous chapter. And uh... can you call this angst?**

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

' _Where are you?'_

Blue-grey eyes stared at the blocky message. Adam didn't know where he was. All he knew was that he took a left instead of a right and went for the route with less people. And then the odd stranger was there and Adam was sitting near the mouth of the alley where a dead body is.

Adam imagines that what he could smell isn't blood.

The device on his hand vibrated again and Adam read the new message.

' _Just stay there. I'll find you_.'

Adam blinks, stares at his watch, and taps his knee at the same time as the second hand _ticks_.

 _1:23_

It wasn't enough of a distraction. Adam mutters, counting the seconds that pass.

 _1:24_

Adam would have stood if he can but his knees are locked in place and he was numb.

 _1:25_

His hand stops tapping and he pulls it sluggishly to his hair.

 _1:26_

Gripping tightly, Adam tugged and let out a low whine. He pushes his face between his knees and starts breathing through his mouth. His throat hurt and Adam spared a thought to the possibility that he will have a bruise there.

 _1:33_

Still feeling unsettled and feeling the compulsion to do _something else_ , Adam's other hand started scratching at his ankle, digging harder unto the skin as his watch _kept on ticking and Adam wanted it to stop—_

"Adam!"

He blinks, but the call sounded so distant.

"Adam—Adam, stop that. What's wrong?"

Adam twitched but didn't stop in his scratching and tugging. A shadow fell over him and Adam blinks.

"Adam—"

"There's a dead body." Adam says, hand pausing in the scratching but the other kept on tugging. "There—in there."

There was silence except for Adam's breathing.

And then gentle hands touched his shoulder carefully, the contact light and warm and all Adam remembered. Still, Adam wanted to pull away, the touch uncomfortable in its comfort.

"Adam…"

The hands were gone and Adam relaxed but tensed again when they wound around his wrist. His hand was pulled away from its slackened grip on his hair. Adam thought of pulling it back but green, _green_ eyes bore down on him.

Adam froze, his heart quickening in its pace until it was all he could hear—a loud roaring that drowned out everything _and it was all he could hear and it burned—burnedburnedburnedletgoletgoletgolethimgo_ —

A cold chill slowly took over his senses and Adam trembled. Soon it was— _he_ was—engulfed by gentle warmth, chasing away the chill that doused the _burning_.

It barely registered; the calm hissing and the steady beating. Adam swallowed, breaths shallow but slowly quieting. With his eyes clenched shut, Adam pressed into the heat, smelling old books and ink. His eyes were warm and his ankle stung and Adam concentrated on those feelings, sighing at the gentle scratch on his scalp.

"Are you okay now, Adam?"

Adam shook his head, drowning himself in the familiar scent, fear and panic soothed by the steady rise and fall of Harry's chest. He didn't even spare a thought to the niggling doubt that Harry would soon pull away from him.

Harry was there.

Harry was _there_.

"Let's get you home."

And despite the implication of the statement, the body Adam was clinging to didn't even twitch to move away.

.

Adam remembered the dead body. Remembered the blood, the scent of nicotine and metal. The lingering traces of white powder on a collar and blood-shot eyes. A large hand around his throat and the sensation of not being able to breathe.

He rarely ever forgets things.

Adam remembers and sees the purple bruise around his neck. Remembers Harry's warmth and _tenderness_.

Adam doesn't remember seeing anything from the news about a dead body the day after, or even the day after that.

It didn't matter, Adam had decided.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

 **I was half tempted to obliviate Adam but… lol things that happen, happen.**

 **I'm so happy to see the positive responses *giggles* arigato ne~**


	8. Disappointed

**Shortest one yet but... eh whatever. Sorry, no Nigel in this chapter.**

* * *

When it comes down to it, applying for jobs was inherently easier to do than thinking about it. Adam had spent _days_ coming to terms that his schedule would have to change because he had graduated and then be changed _again_ when he finally gets a job.

His father had, in the end, pushed him into applying online rather than doing the leg work (at least the more free time Adam had, the more he learned how to use some metaphors).

The interviews were nerve-wracking and if not for his father's company, Adam wouldn't have been able to speak at all. His father, helpful man that he is, accompanied him to the interviews even through Harry's insistence.

"With all due respect Mr. Raki, Adam knows what he is doing and if you go with him _during_ the interviews, I doubt that that would make a good impression." Was what Harry told his father, countenance calm but for the tightness of his mouth.

But a part of Adam wanted his father to be with him. Good impression matters, he knew, but the part that wanted his father to be with him—just like they used to—won over the desire to create a "good impression". And so in the five companies Adam was called in for an interview (out of the forty-two he had applied to), his father went with him, doing majority of the talking and Adam sitting beside him.

Out of the five people they had talked to, only two seemed to even consider him.

The look on his father's face didn't seem like he was happy, and Adam felt a heavy weight settle on his stomach. _Disappointed_. His father was disappointed in him.

He recognized the pursed lips, the furrowed brows, and the nearly inaudible sigh, "What did I do wrong?"

It shouldn't have hurt so much. It shouldn't have made Adam lock himself up in the rooftop until the sun set and the stars revealed themselves. It shouldn't have made Adam wipe away the tears that stubbornly fell from his eyes.

But it did. Like countless other times. And like those other times, his father didn't know.


	9. Interlude: Wizarding World

**Not too sure of this chapter but, well, why not? It's about time you all get smacked by the proverbial information stick after feeling for Adam.**

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

When Voldemort fell—ashes that scattered through the wind until it's nothing—Harry felt a bone deep tiredness. He felt relieved, victorious even, just as charged and enthusiastic as his fellow wizards and witches. But he was _so tired_.

The celebration of their victory lasted through weeks, the fire that ignited in the their bloods not dampened as they worked together to build their world back up.

They mourned their dead, made a show of arresting what was left of the Death Eaters—

And just as they did the first time Voldemort fell, innocents weren't spared.

Harry watched, helpless and protected by his title of being the Man-Who-Conquered, as innocents were convicted of crimes they did not commit. The members of the Order, the Slytherin students who helped them against the Death Eaters, the _spies_ who served a greater purpose than the brand on their forearms.

A year hadn't even passed when the prejudice within their world heightened, fueled by their fear of another war, fanned by Dolores Umbridge seizing her chance and snagging the position of being the Minister.

Harry thought of the promises he made, of the debts he owed to everyone who helped him. Thought of his godson and Andromeda Tonks who he had immediately urged to leave the country as soon as he realized what was happening. Thought of Hermione who he and Ron made plans for to stay with her parents in Australia and never look back.

Thought of Narcissa and Draco Malfoy who are in Azkaban by the virtue of their connection to Lucius Malfoy. Thought of the children with the same fate as the Malfoys.

And so Harry plotted, learned to use what he can for what he believed in. Became what he was avoiding to be.

Within the year he exiled himself, he used his name to get through the political system, pushing galleons this way and that to keep the gears spinning, manipulating deals to his advantage and invoking the debts as their savior to gain control.

 _Cunning. Resourcefulness. Ambition_.

Sometimes Harry doubted Professor Dumbledore's house placement. After all, it was through the old man's memories and portrait that he knew what to do. The old, tattered Hat had laughed at him, too.

" _I told you didn't I, boy? Slytherin will lead you to greatness!"_

Professor McGonagall arrived just in time to stop him from physically cutting up the old Hat.

And within the next year, evidence of every wrong doings of Umbridge surfaced and no amount of covering up could be done when no one was on her side. However, she had a failsafe if she was ever removed from her position.

In addition to the standard legislated criteria of anyone running for the Ministry (which was very lacking), Umbridge added her _own_ criteria.

 _No one with blood less than pure will ever be allowed to step foot in the Minister's office._

 _As being the Minister requires great knowledge of the Wizarding World, anyone running for the position should have no less than eighteen years of experience living in the Wizarding World of Britain._

 _Under the great need of the Wizarding World for having a powerful leader, the Minister following me should have played a significant part in the Second War against the man named Tom Marvolo Riddle and have received no less than an Order of Merlin, First class for their efforts._

All of which were clearly being aimed to block Harry. It didn't matter, really, because Harry never planned on taking up any kind of spot that would put him higher than he wanted to be.

It was child's play from then on, compared to turning the entire Ministry and majority of the Wizarding World against Umbridge. Neville Longbottom easily passed the criteria and was almost immediately voted in the moment his name was mentioned. A few whispers to the correct ears were the only things Harry needed to do to ensure Neville would be in the correct tract.

And then a few weeks following his nineteenth birthday, Harry packed up and left Britain without saying a word. He did his part, they could all now bugger themselves.


	10. Understanding

The cold wind of the night air was unforgiving, causing Adam to shiver in his lacking clothes. He hadn't had the forethought of bringing with him a jacket, the tight feeling on his chest as he watched his father staring into nothing played around on his mind.

 _'You see those stars?'_ Adam remembers a soft, gentle voice whisper to him, his eyes taking in the bright shine of the lights that dotted the night sky. ' _They're so far away that it takes years for us to see them. They reach out but the gap between what we see and what they want is too big.'_

 _'And then when what they want finally reaches us, it's too late.'_

It was with those same eyes that he looked up to the sky, wondering why that faint memory of his mother came to mind. There wasn't much else he could remember of her mother besides her voice, her gentle words that Adam couldn't understand. Not wholly with its analogies and symbols.

He tries but sometimes it is hard to do. He _tries_ and he gets angry that people _just don't get it_. He knows his father loves him, the man always says so— _and the safety and comfort and warmth around his father_ —just as much as Adam _feels_.

 _What did I do wrong?_

Adam hated those words.

"What are you doing here?"

Startled from his thoughts, Adam slowly turns to see who it was, feeling slightly intruded upon. "Harry?"

"Shouldn't you be in bed by now?" There was inflection of sorts in Harry's voice as he went to sit beside Adam, brows furrowed. "And it's cold. You could catch the flu if you're not careful."

Adam doesn't answer, not knowing what to respond with, and merely watched green, _green_ eyes flicker— _assessing_ him.

And in the silence, Adam felt the need to fill it—maybe Harry _was_ expecting an answer? "No, I wasn't able to take my coat with me."

There was a sigh and then shuffling. Adam blinks and turns his head to see what Harry was doing, head tilted as the messy haired teenager pulled at the sleeves of his jacket.

"Here," Harry offered on side of his jacket, lips tilted in a smile. "It's big enough for the two of us, we can share."

"Oh, uh," Adam takes the offered side and drapes it over himself, feeling it rude to decline. It was a bit of a fit so Harry and Adam had to shift closer to each other, but the large material was warm enough that Adam only now felt how cold he really was. "Th- thank you. You didn't have to."

Harry huffed, "Of course I have to."

Adam didn't reply, knowing how stubborn Harry is.

They lapsed into silence, only the sound of the night traffic below disturbing it. Adam felt incredibly _warm_ , with Harry pressed against his side and the surprisingly comfortable—and _large_ —jacket wrapped around them. The warmth seeped in and settled under his skin and then crawled up to his chest, and Adam shifted closer.

"Your father is worried." It was barely a whisper but Adam heard it nonetheless. "We should go back."

"I-" Adam bites his lip. "I don't think I want to. Not yet."

Harry looks at him, _stares_ at him for a long moment before nodding. "Okay."

And they stayed there, huddled close and an air of _understanding_ between them.


	11. Sweet

**I say, ENOUGH WITH THE ANGST FEST! At least for a bit. Can't have fluff without angst.**

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

Adam stared down quizzically at the warm bottle in his hands. It had no sticker or even a printed label to tell him what it was, just that it was warm and creamy yellow through the clear glass. Even the bottle cap was plain copper.

"What's this?"

He saw the eye roll Harry did before the teenager strolled into the room uninvited.

"An extension of friendship? I don't think it would count as a gift anyway." A pause, then— " _Oh_ , right. Butterbeer. It's very popular where I came from. If there's a slight chill, better get yourself a Butterbeer. Or, well, if you just wanted to. Ron's brothers used to sneak out frequently to sell them to lower years."

Curiously swirling the liquid in its bottle, Adam went over to the couch and sat beside Harry, turning to him with a question, "Does it contain alcohol?"

He knew Harry's school—with the most atrociously lacking curriculum Adam has ever heard of—accepted children from aged eleven to eighteen. The word ' _beer_ ' implies that it contains alcohol, a substance that is prohibited from anyone below eighteen. Adam was fairly sure that eighteen was the standard legal age for drinking in every country.

"I don't think so, no," Harry made a quick trip to the kitchen and brought two glass cups that he placed on the coffee table. "Never really asked what it was made of. Although I think it has some kind of rum? Rum extract, maybe? Well, I do _know_ they won't sell it to thirteen-year-olds if it has alcohol in it. Our professors don't reach _that_ kind of incompetency."

At the prompting Harry gave him—some of which Adam was slowly able to recognize much more frequently—he passed the bottle onto the waiting hand. The cap was opened and the contents poured into the individual cups. Foam bubbled on top of the yellow liquid, dragging with it the cream color of the beverage, living up to the ' _beer'_ part of its name.

Adam accepted the offered glass and studied it carefully.

"It's not going to eat you, Adam."

"A liquid beverage can't eat people unless it contains hydrofluoric acid, in which case the glass would melt as well."

"Then stop staring at it as if it's weird."

Looking down on the glass clutched at his hands, Adam brought it up to sniff at it. "It smells… _sweet_."

"It _is_ sweet."

" _Atrociously_ sweet."

"Your teeth won't rot, Adam."

"My taste buds wouldn't be able to handle it."

" _Ada—_ was that a joke?"

Adam furrowed his brows. "No."

"So you're exaggerating?"

He canted his head to the side, deep in thought. "…maybe?"

Harry sighed, "Just drink it, Adam. If you don't like it, more for me. I'm not going to push you to finish it all."

Adam peered down at the glass. He very rarely deviates from the usual things he eats, content and preferring the taste and texture of his cereal and mac n' cheese as well as the occasional soda and Harry's tea. This Butterbeer smelled very, _very_ sweet. Hard candies hadn't sat well with Adam when he tried them.

But then Harry's look— _wide eyes and lightly pursed lips that never fail to make Adam rethink his actions_ —made him pause. Staring down at the froth and warmed glass, Adam sighed.

He brought it up to his lips and took a sip, wrinkling his nose at the feeling of the froth touching his upper lip. It slid down his throat smoothly, warm and slightly biting on its trail. Unconsciously, Adam relaxed, the warmth impossibly spreading through his body.

"So how is it?"

Adam blinks and stares down into his drink, then to Harry who looked at him expectantly. "Sweet."

Harry snorts but Adam knew it wasn't a laugh. The messy haired young man brought his own drink to his lips and sipped at it before responding, "Anything else?"

"Warm."

Harry's laugh was bright and airy, something Adam somehow _knew_ was rarely heard. It was in the way Harry tilted his head back, in the way his muscles tense, in the way even he seems startled at his own laugh. Mostly, it was in the way Adam somehow _sees_ the sadness in Harry.

 _Warm, just like you_.

Adam wanted to give something back for that warmth.

Even if Harry teases him for having a 'froth moustache' when the other has one too.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

 **As you can see, I have this fondness for the word 'warmth'. I don't know why. But working with Adam gives you a limited choice of metaphors, yeah?**

 **Also, yes, Adam is getting better at conversations.**


	12. Cold

**Wow, I'm always such a liar. Angst warning.**

* * *

When Harry bought the apartment in Manhattan, the American Ministry of Magic nearly threw a fit. They _did_ throw a fit when he moved in. Apparently, despite the abolition of Rappaport's Law, it was still a norm to avoid muggles— _sorry—no-majs._ But without legal basis aside from long-term bias (Harry wondered how the ICW managed to get the Law abolished) they had no choice but to let Harry stay.

So he settled in and made a new friend.

Adam Raki.

Harry couldn't describe the… _fondness_ he feels over his new friend. It was different from the exasperated fondness he feels over Ron and Hermione (Harry ignores the painful twinge and utter feeling of _loss_ ). Different from the fondness he felt for Ginny— _oh his wonderful, beautiful Ginny._ It was, in a way, gratifying that his fondness for Adam doesn't remind him of anything from home.

He looks at the _adoring_ way Adam beholds the sky and Harry knew what he wanted.

Adam holds an innocence Harry never possessed. A brilliant, unwavering light in the dark depths of the world, burning and blinding with his bluntness. Harry wanted to cherish it, to _nurture_ it and watch as it _burns and consumes_ what is in its way. He wanted Adam to never lose that innocence, to wrap him in his embrace and never let him go in fear of anyone tarnishing it.

But Harry also knew that Adam was his own person, that every human cannot always be _naïve_ and _blind_. Knew that sheltering him would only lead down the path bathed with the jagged edges that _breaks._ (It was a path Harry treaded and would willingly guard people against).

And he knew that he had to be gentle and understanding— _much more than people had ever been to him._

So he befriended the befuddled and confused and _lost_ Adam Raki and did his best to curb his overprotective instincts. He did what he can without treating Adam like fragile glass. And if he saw how alike they were and how utterly different they are, Harry merely took it in stride and refused to compare himself and his brilliant, _damaged_ friend.

Harry wasn't bitter. Jaded, maybe, but not bitter. Damaged, broken, and put together hastily with the sharp, jagged edges of something out of place scratching and stabbing when he moved the wrong way.

And all the more, Harry wanted Adam unaware of that feeling.

(He didn't know if it was being bitter or being jaded. Harry was known for self-denial after all.)

.

Harry stared up the sky, unheeding of the cold wind biting at his bare arms, muscles rigid at the chill but nonetheless relaxed. It was deep into the night, nearing the coming of the next day and Harry was sat on the rooftop of the building he lived in.

His eyes slowly traced the constellations, reciting their names in his head and then pausing over one.

 _Draco_. The guardian of eternity. The beast with a hundred heads guarding over the golden apples of immortality. The young man who sacrificed himself for nothing.

The Malfoys were the first ones to be persecuted, punished by law and sentenced to the Kiss. Harry was unable to do anything, the Ministry remaining deaf to his words and pleas, their trial nothing but a hearing of their crimes and sentence to death. He hadn't even been able to apologize before their souls were sucked out.

Harry sighed heavily, rubbing his face vigorously and trying to shake off his train of thought. The guilt remained heavy in his throat, making him feel nauseous and weary. This was no way to celebrate his birthday.

"I guess this is what I get for not doing anything, yeah?" Harry whisper-shouted, anger roiling uncomfortably around him, eyes narrowed as he glared at the dotted sky. "You've always been a pain in the arse, it's a wonder why I thought even after you're dead you'd stop taunting me."

Then he laughed because it was so ridiculous. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed until tears fell from his eyes. He laughed until he's in the danger of falling because he was _so stupid_ thinking that he'd ever escape from _their_ grasp.

" _So stupid_ ," Harry whispered to himself, "Potter, what have you ever done to deserve to be _free?_ "

Because even with his little life here, even with Adam's damaged _brilliance_ , Harry would remain haunted by his past, haunted by the people _he_ _died_ _for_ and died for what they believed in. He'd always be held back, and when he moves forward, it would be nothing but a ruse.

"Harry?"

He starts at the call of his name.

"Why are you laughing?"

Harry quickly wipes at his face, not knowing that his tears weren't even because of the laughter anymore.

"Adam?" He winced at the roughness of his voice, not daring to turn around in fear of Adam seeing his face. "What are you doing up here? Shouldn't you be asleep by now?"

"I asked you a question first." Harry heard the footsteps coming closer. "Shouldn't you answer me first?"

A chuckle came back unbidden and Harry hoped Adam didn't notice the edge to it. "Yes, yes, of course. I was laughing because I was thinking of something ridiculous. Now, why are you out here?"

"It's your birthday."

Harry blinked. And blinked again. "Come again?"

Adam sighed as if it should be obvious _why._ "You told me you celebrate your birthday at midnight. So I'm here to celebrate with you."

And Harry was momentarily stunned. "You just answered me." Of course that wasn't what he wanted to say but he _was_ proud that he didn't have to directly ask Adam. "Ignore that. Adam, you didn't have to find me at midnight. We could have celebrated tomorrow if you wanted to."

"Why is it 'if I wanted to'?" There was honest confusion in Adam's tone. "It's your birthday, it should be what you want, not mine."

"Alright," Harry answered, more because he didn't want to argue. "But still, you should be asleep now."

"I- I wanted t-to," Adam stuttered, uncertain and Harry wished he could have taken back what he said. "If you don't—"

"No!" Harry immediately cut in, not wanting Adam to finish his sentence. He turned, disregarding the possible state of his face, and looked at Adam. He didn't want Adam to leave, not like everybody else. A part of him, larger by this time, almost cried out at the thought of being _left behind._ "No, no, Adam. Don't- please don't leave."

Harry swallowed down the urge to cry, his emotions unbalanced and in conflict with his mind. And for a moment, he wished he hadn't befriended Adam. For a moment, he wished he remained alone. For a moment, he hated Adam.

He hated that Adam had what he never had.

"You've been crying," Adam's voice was soft, flat, stilted and uncertain. "Why would you cry? I don't- I want to-" He swallowed. "-I don't know what to do. But I- I want to help."

And then Harry hated himself. He couldn't blame Adam, he couldn't blame anyone but himself. It was his fault, his burden to bear, his demons that haunted him through the empty nights. Adam didn't do anything wrong. His damaged, _brilliant_ friend didn't do anything wrong. Harry had to remind himself that _he_ was wrong.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when his face was lightly shoved on a shoulder, arms gently holding him close. Harry had to stop himself from flinching at the sudden contact but remained rigid in shock.

"You're cold."

Slowly, Harry relaxed, the slightly awkward hug (only because it was so sudden) holding him in place. He didn't answer the comment, instead regulating his breathing and forcing his muscles to relax further. Adam just wanted to help.

Hesitantly, Harry raised his hands and returned the hug.

"I'm sorry."

Adam wouldn't know what he was sorry for but Harry didn't want to elaborate. He barely noticed the tightening of the arms around him.

* * *

 **So... was that fine? We've gone to double digits so I thought it was about time to have legit Harry POV and not that interlude in ch9.**

 **Also, to those reading Metaxis, please bear with me for a bit because we just came back from a vacation that left my feet aching horribly. I left my laptop to avoid any holdups with those pesky inspections.**


	13. Illness

**Not much fluff going on but it's something to move the plot along. HAH! It has a plot! Thought it didn't? Think again! *Throws easter bunny around***

* * *

Adam liked solitude. It allowed him to sink into his mind without the pressure of decoding and analyzing faces that twisted into expressions Adam could name with difficulty. Naming stars and galaxies and envisioning the _vast_ universe proves better than interacting with people. They are constant, almost unchanging, and _predictable_.

Concrete and logical data made more sense to him than the ever changing emotions that pass through a person's face. A smile could be faked, a word unsaid but meant, an action misunderstood as its opposite. They are unpredictable, and prediction was what Adam was most capable of.

 _"Internalization, Adam,_ " Harry told him, " _You don't need to predict. If you don't understand a person, ask yourself '_ what about me, what would I do?'"

It was hard. Even though he knew them in theory, Adam still found it difficult to do so. Internalizing it would often answer the question ' _why'_ and rarely the _'what_ '. Reasoning is a base structure, yes, but the physical manifestation of it was harder to decipher.

That did not stop him from the occasional epiphany of _understanding_.

It was both a blessing and a curse because although Adam preferred gathering sufficient information, there would be things he would rather have the ability to forget. Empathy has never been— _would never be_ —his strongest suit, the ability seeming to have favored the other side of the family, but occasionally it would come to him, bringing with it the sense of helplessness.

His father was ill.

It wasn't as if Adam hadn't seen his father sick and hospitalized— _a vague memory of a woman in her deathbed, pale and weak and dying—_ because he had. What made this different, however, was that his father is _ill_.

Adam couldn't tell what kind of illness his father is suffering from— _he wasn't a doctor, after all, although now he wished he was_ —but that it was taking its toll on the man. Harlan didn't know, as far as Adam could see, and his father himself didn't seem to.

It was quite obvious to Adam. The man moved slower in repetitive movements, his hands would sometimes completely miss for what it was reaching out to, and he was easily fatigued. It couldn't be old age, his father was quite young despite his appearance, and creaking bones and joint pains wouldn't have bothered the man for a few more years.

The right decision would have been to inform him, or at the least convince his father to go to the hospital. Prevention is better than cure, after all. But something stops Adam from doing so.

 _Pride_.

In the years that his father had raised him, Adam knew enough of the man to know of stubbornness and denial (that Harry had unintentionally expounded on). And he knew enough of his father to know the man's 'bull-headedness'.

The moment Adam so much as mentions the word 'hospital' his father would pretend not to hear him.

And quite frankly, Adam didn't know what to feel (except for that feeling of helplessness that wrapped around him).

So here he was, on the couch, staring at the wall and mulling over his thoughts.

That was how Harry found him. The boy— _I'm 20 for Merlin's sake, Adam_ —easily sat on the couch beside him, not touching but close enough to know they're both there.

"Hey Adam."

Adam hummed distractedly in response, not feeling up to opening his mouth to speak.

"Not up to talking?"

Another hum.

"Okay," Adam felt Harry shrug. A part of the tight coil in Adam's stomach eased at the acceptance. He felt uncomfortable to talk. "I'll go get a book then."

The rest of the afternoon was spent in companionable silence, the topic of his father's illness still weighing on Adam's mind.

* * *

 **Anyone noticed the easter egg? *winks with both eyes* And yeah, we're around the 00's to '04 I guess. It's not specific but eh, the movie/s (and the series) would take place in the same year it was aired.**


	14. Concern

**So, uh, I said in the previous chapter that the events start on the year the movie/s was/were aired. The exception would be Charlie Countryman. It's going to happen at the same time as Adam's so, yeah.**

* * *

Harry was…concerned.

Don't get him wrong. He was always concerned and worried. He worried that he'd step on the American Ministry of Magic's— _yes, he does know they're called a Congress but who cares? Certainly not Harry_ —toes and end up booted back to jolly ol' England. He worried that someone from _home_ would track him down. He worried that he won't find a decent seller of tea that won't be imported from Europe.

But, well, those were rather inconsequential matters (except for the decent seller of tea; how can the yanks screw up something like that? Twinings is all well and good but it's still, somehow, lacking).

Adam seemed downtrodden. It wasn't something immediately noticeable and if Harry hadn't been trained to read people— _"Ah, Lord Potter, how nice to see you," Oily, forced smile, relaxed stance, over-confident; easy to bribe, easy to guide—_ then he wouldn't have seen it.

And really, it was just the way the silences were stretched that made him notice at first. Then itty-little bits of it made itself known. Minute frowns that came out of nowhere would mar Adam's brows, he'd started spending a lot of—well, more than usual—time reading books and searching through the internet, and restlessly cleaning up after his father.

Yeah, it was mostly _that_.

Harry wasn't blind—metaphorically speaking because he'd still be practically blind without his lenses or glasses—and hadn't been since he'd cleaned up the Wizarding World's mess. He might be oblivious sometimes but it was hard not to _see_ this certain kind of change in the flow of the Raki household.

To put it simply, from what Harry had gathered without actually _asking_ , Mr. Raki's starting to feel the effects of his service in the army much earlier than he should. It was also clear that it was worsening at a slow— _very slow but still so fast, as it is with these things—_ rate.

Harry couldn't see where he could help. He wasn't a trained Medi-wizard or Healer. At most, he could heal deep cuts, but not things that go haywire and not _bleed_. Potions were never his forte and he doubted Countercurses works for something _not_ caused by a curse. That was not counting the Statute of Secrecy.

He would have suggested going to the Hospital, to at least get checked-up, but Harry saw the stubborn light in Mr. Raki's eyes. Adam's father would rather have time to himself and his son than go to pesky appointments with doctors who know shit. Or something that goes like that.

Harry understands why. Even he doesn't like going near Doctors or Healers or, Merlin forbid, _Madam Pomfrey_.

So he kept 'vigil'; a silent supporter even if Adam probably wouldn't notice it. But he knew, too, that Adam wouldn't be the one who would need reassurance or support. It would be Mr. Raki, who would feel as if his son would be unconcerned. Harlan, maybe, to some degree, but he wasn't close with the man.

Adam wouldn't be too affected by the emotions that remain pungent in the air, wouldn't have to be weighed down— _cannot_ be weighed down. It was just the way he is. Harry wouldn't begrudge him that, but he couldn't help but feel envious and relieved.

Because if there was one thing Harry knew intimately, it was the feeling of resignation and hopelessness and _death_.

* * *

 **I may have plans for this, but it's kind of like… having a compass without a map. I** _ **do**_ **know we'd have Arcs (how many? Well… *grins* sorry, not telling, but it's more than two). So I'm very open to suggestions and I'll see what I can do unless it's going to be in conflict with anything.**


	15. Death

**OMG what is this, an update?! I'm so sorry for the absence but school has been brutal. I mean, fuck, two theses in 4 months? I'm lucky I love writing (include: mind-numbing, eye burning research) so much.**

 **Anyway, this chapter is a bit...depressing. But, well, it just writes itself.**

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 _Death_ , Harry contemplates, _is unforgiving_.

The disconcerting feeling in seeing a person so devoid of _life_ cannot be put into words. It didn't matter how many times one sees a lifeless body; the bubbling feeling of seeing something so _off_ never ceases to haunt the psyche. So used to seeing _life_ in every pass and turn that _death_ and _end_ is terrifying to see.

But seeing that _death_ while knowing that there's still _life_ in a man?

 _The wait for death is ruthless._

Maybe it was the inevitability, or maybe it was the stark similarities in pale, ashen skin and white sheets. Perhaps it was the grief of a friend and the absence of it in a son. Nonetheless, there is something in the scene that unsettles Harry.

He was no stranger to death and grief. Sorrow, betrayal, _anger_ … Harry was well acquainted with them.

Then gazing at Adam Raki, he felt a mixture of them. Not quite betrayal at his lack of feelings, not quite anger at his disregard, not quite sorrow for his inability to do so.

 _He doesn't deserve this._

Deserve what? Deserve the impending death of his father? Deserve the overwhelming _loss_ of a parent that lived with you through your life? _Deserve love and affection and happiness and normality that Harry had long since stopped dreaming of?_

No. Adam doesn't deserve _him_. Thinking of such things, _Harry_ doesn't deserve to be Adam's friend. Because Adam, despite his misgivings, is and always will be the better person than Harry. Adam deserved a loving father. Harry didn't even deserve loving relatives.

Maybe he was being irrational, letting his own anger at himself cloud his judgment. That certainly didn't hide the fact that he has blood staining his hands and Adam _doesn't_.

Death shrouded Harry's life, dogging every step. Grief licked at the edges of his being. And yet this one time, he couldn't make himself leave. Adam would need him come his father's death. Maybe not in the way most would, but certainly in a way Harry could easily assist in.

"Harry…"

His attention focused on the figure on the bed, wilting away with every breath. Mr. Raki's hand twitched and slowly rose up, dropping on the sheets as the muscles supporting it failed to do so. Harry stood up from his chair and knelt down beside the dying man.

"Yes Mr. Raki?"

The man snorted breathlessly. "All this time you've practically lived in this apartment….and still you call me Mr. Raki."

Harry smiled even though the man cannot see it.

A moment of silence washed over them and Harry felt with certainty that man's time was drawing to a close.

"You'll watch over him?"

Harry stilled, gazing at the man he had never grown close to even through the amount of time they had been in close proximity.

 _Would he?_

"Of course."

When he called an ambulance, they never made it on time. And when Adam came home with the news of being hired at Replay Incorporated, it was to an empty room.


	16. I am Reaching

***giggles* We're finally in the second arc! Huzzah! I can finally promise Nigel's appearance in the nearer future!**

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

It was… strange.

Adam could hardly remember the last time he had to stand on the grassy plain of the local cemetery. The last time, it was during his mother's wake—when he first met the other side of the family. He vaguely remembered his father's rage— _red-faced and crying, blaming_ them _for mother's death; even then, Adam knew what it was and felt nothing for it. Dad's there, why should there be anything wrong?_

He wonders if Will had visited their mother's grave yet. Adam hadn't because his father never bothered to. Multiple headstones stood as far as the fence allows it. Some had flowers, some had candles, and some had fallen into disrepair; perhaps like his mother's.

But his eyes remain riveted on the dug-up rectangular hole and the coffin being slowly rolled down.

The coat and button up shirt itched at his skin. He had not used it since graduation nor had he seen any reason to buy newer ones when he already had one. There were very few occasions that he would need it and it was simply impractical to have more than one set.

Harry stood beside him, in his arms the neatly folded flag of the United States. It was a symbol of what his father had been; a member of the army. Harlan would get his, too, when it was time for his coffin to be rolled down into the ground.

"He asked me if I would stay with you."

Adam didn't know if an answer was expected, but he chose to because the silence was uncomfortable. "What did you say?"

Harry snorted and shrugged, his lips pursed. "I would. I _will_."

A tension Adam didn't know existed eased within him and his shoulders relaxed.

The men were shoveling the dirt back into the hole and it was time to go. Harlan patted his shoulder and gave him a look he couldn't decipher then left with a nod to Harry's direction.

Adam stared at the men as they continued to work, hands flexing at his sides out of habit than tension.

He wasn't so startled when Harry spoke up, "Let's go?"

Instead, he wondered. "Will we walk?"

"Do you want to?"

Adam took a moment to consider. The silence was tempered by the sound of the men shoveling.

"Yes."

Their walk was spent without one of them talking. This time, it was Adam who took hold of Harry's hand without prompting. It was comforting in an unexplainable way and the hard tension around him eased as they continued on.

When they finally made it back, Adam made a beeline for the broom. He was running late on the schedule for his chores. Then he realized he had to correct the list because his father wasn't around anymore.

He had the marker in his hand when he noticed Harry's name where his father's name should be.

Adam stared at it in puzzlement and hesitantly put the marker down. Then he took the broom in hand once more and continued sweeping the floor.

He would ask Harry later.


	17. I Need You

Doing something for the sake of others has always been what Harry Potter does.

Perhaps it was the part of him that grew up knowing _no one_ would help— _a fact terribly beaten into him the made him feel so, so_ _ **alone**_ —or perhaps it was just the way he is. _Or it is the little martyr Albus Dumbledore had raised—a pig for slaughter meant to die but didn't quite do so_.

Whichever reason it is, Harry Potter has had it ingrained to his very being to be _selfless_. It had hardly done him any good but, Harry sometimes reflected— _convinced himself_ —that the little good it did give was what he _lived_ for.

He was the Boy-Who-Lived, the Man-Who-Conquered. A lot of people are indebted to him.

 _Had they ever really done you any good?_

Harry always convinced himself that they did.

And here, standing in the barren room he had lived in for the few years of his stay in the Colonies, Harry is almost confident that _this_ is one of those situations that would do him good.

A few days from now, a young lady would be moving in to what used to be his apartment. He'd had almost half of his stuff in the Raki's apartment anyway, having had to stay in as Mr. Raki's health continued to plummet in the past few months. Packing the rest was very easy and surrendering his keys to the landlord was easier with a swish of his wand here and there.

He should probably be worried about his use of magic but it's been weeks and he hasn't received any kind of reprimand from the Ministry yet.

So with a wry smile, Harry picked up the last box of his belongings, and closed the door shut. There were no memories spent there and it was odd because somehow, all of his departures are significant. This one was not and it left him feeling a bit hollow. Besides, he'd only be moving two floors down.

"It's your turn to take the laundry," was Adam's greeting as Harry entered, still wearing the suit. So he had seen the few changes Harry had made.

Harry grinned, almost used to the unexpected way Adam reacted to things. "Tomorrow, Adam. I'll make sure I finish it in time before I have to _study_. Just let me settle my things and get them out of the way first."

Adam frowned but nodded. "Okay."

Seeing the apprehension in the blue-green-grey eyes, Harry's grin softened into a smile. The messy haired young man quickly put the box in his hands out of the way, where Adam wouldn't have to stare at it in puzzlement, and buzzed through the hampers and laundry bags.

"I'll be back in a few." Harry called out as he exited the room.

 _Adam needs you._

And Harry didn't know why he felt relieved.


	18. In the Night

**HAPPY NEW YEAR GUYS! It's been a while since I updated... uhh... *sheepish grin* anyway, here it is; the next chapter. A bit angsty with a bit of fluff on the side. Also, POV change 'cause I got used to writing it again. And to compensate, it's 1k words long!**

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Nighttime is easily Harry's favored time. And at the same time, his most dreaded.

The quietness and chill of it has been a constant companion ever since he could remember. Cupboards hardly offer great ventilation especially in the winter season and little Harry had learned to cherish the stillness when creaking wood and the demands and shouts of _freak_ proves commonplace in number four Privet Drive. Quietness has always been preferable to noises, more so now with the— _screams of pain and agony, torn throats begging for mercy that will never come, cries of anguish as a loved one died_ —

The darkness was the same; always present, always there. But it haunts him (just as the _screams_ haunted him).

Night is the time his body decides to be tired. Night is the time he rummages through his trunk as he tried to find a vial of dreamless sleep potion and realize he already drank the night before (and because he was a better person now, he would not give in to the temptation). Night is the time the ashes of Lord Voldemort came to life and _burned._

 _Selfish, Potter. Leaving them all to their fate. Lord Voldemort lives in their minds; he lives in their souls. Isn't that what you had shamelessly spouted? That they live in their hearts. I live in_ you _, Potter._

Some nights, they were tolerable.

And then there are some nights that Harry barely woke up, heart frozen in terror and _sorrowangerguilt_ for the things his mind made up to torment himself.

Most nights, Harry wakes up screaming his throat raw as memories played again and again and _again_.

Then as the night gives way to the early hours of morning, Harry spends his time shoring everything back in its place, deep into his own psyche, and basks in the quietness and chill.

This is one of most nights.

But Harry forgot that he wasn't in his room—that he wasn't even on a bed. He forgot that he had made himself at home with a bunch of blankets on the couch of the Raki's apartment, promising Adam that he would set up tomorrow. He forgot that the moment his body relaxed, he passed out.

Harry forgot that he had no silencing ward up.

And so his screams echoed through every room, startling Adam awake and disturbing more than a few other tenants.

Adam had already been having a disrupted sleep caused by the shift that felt _so different_ in the air but jerks awake as a scream pierced the _shifting_ stillness. He sits up, tilts his head as it tapered off into whimpers and a constant mantra of ' _No, nononostopittheydidn't—!'_

And then he realized where it was coming from.

With a shot of alarm— _and worry and fear because why would Harry be screaming so badly_ —Adam shuffles away from his bed and sped over to the living room, blinking rapidly as his heart pounded harshly.

Everything he had read about break-in situations rushed through his mind but panic made him slow in processing it.

"H-Harry?" whispered Adam, cautiously peeking over.

A hard _thud_ jerked Adam away from his trance and had him pattering noisily over to the struggling mound on the floor. The horrible screams and pleas came from inside it and Adam realized that _Harry was in there Adam shouldn't just be standing there Harry might suffocate—_

Working quickly, Adam crouched down and dug through the mess of blankets and human limbs, prioritizing on freeing Harry's head.

"Harry," Adam flinched as a hand impacted harshly on his jaw. "Harry, stop—" He grabbed the thin wrist and _pulled_ enough that Harry lurched with it.

Quite suddenly, the struggles stopped just as the screaming and hissing did.

Silence bathed the semidarkness of the room. The body lying on the floor shifted but didn't sit up. Adam contented himself with slightly leaning over it.

Adam sees Harry squint as _dull green_ eyes settled on him, "…Adam?" His voice is hoarse and faint.

"What happened?" Adam knew what happened but didn't know how else to word what he really wanted to ask. _Are you okay? Why did you scream? Was it a nightmare?_ Generic questions that Adam thought were stupid to ask.

Harry's lip twitched upwards, "Nothing."

Adam frowned and a dark ugly thing inside him wanted to scream _liar_. He wasn't stupid.

"Really, Adam, it's—" Harry continued, freeing himself from the tangled blankets. "It's nothing you should concern yourself with. I'm sorry if I woke you up."

The thing clammed itself up, accepting the explanation but another rose up in its place.

Adam's frown deepened. "You were screaming." He decides to say.

Harry stopped in his movements and gained a wide-eyed look. "Did I—was it bad?"

"Yes," was Adam's immediate answer, "You kept saying _no_. I didn't understand what else you were saying because of your hissing."

If the semidarkness allowed it to be seen, Harry paled. " _Oh_."

"The neighbors probably heard it too," Adam continues, "But Mrs. Peters said that noise hardly passes through the walls. I don't know about that because I've never tried it."

"Okay," Harry nodded and shuffled around again. "You should go back to bed, Adam. I'll deal with it."

Adam watches for a few more moments as Harry arranged himself back on the couch. Adam wanted to say something to- _to what?_ Nightmares were abstract concept to Adam, someone who hardly experiences it. And if he does, Adam would know it was just a dream when he wakes up. There was hardly a thought that lingered in the dream.

But Harry is a neurotypical. NTs dealt with nightmares harder.

Adam didn't know what to do but he knew that leaving Harry wasn't something he should do. So, it is with brief deliberation that Adam shuffles back to his room and _stares_.

It was big, a queen sized bed that covered a fourth of the room. Adam remembers his father mention something about future partners and having a big enough bed to fit two people. It would be uncomfortable to have someone else in his room.

Harry was asleep when he came back, curled up and burrowed into a corner of the couch.

Adam mulls his options over.

Then in a moment that surprises even him, Adam pattered back to his room, dragged his pillows and blankets along, and settled on the couch beside Harry.

It was adequate enough.

When morning came and Adam had to start his day, he hardly rested and was left feeling tired.


End file.
